


HD LDWS drabbles

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 Drabbles written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/slythindor100/">slythindor100</a> LWDS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beyond a Certain Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I hate that I want you.

It was no use.

Harry sighed, and decided that it was time to just stop lying to himself. Across his desk, the Auror who had been assigned this case with him grimly ignored his exhalation, and kept writing. Harry stole a look at him, at his long pale fingers as they gripped the quill, before he tried to concentrate on his own report once more.

All things being equal, he was well aware of how this Friday night might go. He would leave the office and pull some towheaded bloke, or another with grey eyes, take them back to his too-large messy house and do things that left them both breathless and sweaty...but Harry would still have that coldness in his chest, an icicle that never seemed to melt.

He sighed again.

*

Every time Potter made that _sound_ , Draco wanted to hex him, for it seemed as if he could feel the other man's breath tickling his already over-sensitive skin. He wanted to throw chairs, books, entire _libraries_ at him, because he had felt this way for far too bloody long, and he wasn't quite sure if he could take any more of it.

"Malfoy... _Draco_ ," he heard Potter murmur and braced himself. He didn't want this, now now, _not ever_ , something he had been telling himself since his teen-aged years… and yet there was that anticipatory heat coiling low in his stomach. "Are you hungry?"

Draco lifted his head and stared at him; Potter looked tired and oddly defeated, but his gaze was intent on Draco's face.

Draco swallowed, and set down his quill. "I suppose I am."

"Alright," Harry said as they both got to their feet very slowly, as if they were suspicious of each other's intent. "Let's go, then."


	2. Descending in Spirals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Fuck me, fix me."

Harry chanced a glance at Malfoy and tried not to squirm. Malfoy regarded him calmly; his sharp features seemed softened under the warm light of the common room.

"Come again," Malfoy said, and the flat timbre of his voice set off strange ripples in Harry's stomach. When had Malfoy's voice gotten so deep?

"It's just an obsession, you see," Harry said and vaguely took note that he had picked up a stammer from _somewhere_. "If I just... _immerse_ myself, it'll go away and, well, I'll be normal again."

" _Normal_." Malfoy turned over the word in his mouth like it was a stone he found in his caviar. "Has there ever been anything normal about you, Potter?"

"Look, I'm in a predicament here," Harry said, and bit his lip as some other Eighth-years clattered past the couch from dinner. He rather thought this should have gone easier; Malfoy owed him that, didn't he? Harry just _had_ to stop this bad habit of his, musing over Malfoy's skin and hair, and actually moaning out the prat's name when he was in the middle of a snog session with Gin. It made his head whirl, as if he had spun around too many times.

Malfoy said, "So this immersion tactic involves you sleeping with me. Getting me out of your system, as it were."

"Yes." Harry's hope was stupidly palpable, but it faded away when Malfoy leaned forward, malevolence glittering grey in his eyes.

"Potter. I think I fancy the idea of mucking about your bloody precious _system_ ," he said and tapped a cool finger against Harry's bottom lip. He smiled when Harry licked the place he touched.

He didn't get up to leave, though, just smiled in that dangerous manner, and Harry felt the room spin.


	3. Requirements Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You're great in bed, but you're still an arse."

Pansy's dark eyes narrowed and Draco withstood her scrutiny, twitching his wand so that the teapot between them poured out dark, fragrant liquid.

" _Potter_?" She accepted the delicate white cup which floated in her direction. "Really."

Draco shrugged. Flashes of last night and the night before popped into his memory, unbidden: Potter arching beneath him, flat stomach gleaming with sweat and, after a few moments, their mingled come; the dark sweep of his lashes and his hot, quick breath against Draco's cheek.

"How is he," Pansy asked in her flat manner, but her expression was almost hungry with curiosity. Draco's smile felt coy on his face and she laughed, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip. "That good, then."

"Positively brilliant," Draco confirmed and then tilted his head in consideration. "Until he opens his self-righteous mouth."

Pansy grinned. "Well, at least you've finally got each other."

Draco frowned, settling his teacup in its saucer with a clatter. "Nonsense, darling. We're both quite aware that all that is required is a prick and a willing wet hole. Or hand, for that matter. Nothing else."

"Rather crass today, are we?" Pansy murmured, but Draco said, very sharply, " _Nothing else._ "


	4. It won't grow here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Enough with this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First-person narrative; I probably took the word 'fighting' a bit too literally.

"Such a shite," he informs me, voice low and growing up from somewhere near my ankles, lushly dark like the ripe berries of belladonna. He is lying on the lush grass, coming up to his elbows and wiping away the shocking red from his lips, shade bright as Mother's poppies. I forget if I had hit him or kissed him bloody.

My knuckles throb. I hit him, then; how utterly plebeian of me. He stands up slowly, shaking out his wrists and rolling his head in a tight circle. His smile is sunny, dangerous.

"Let's do this, then," he says crisply, and we do. A few times, _let's do this_ means desperate perfection, but it can also mean to hack at each other with words until there is nothing left to hide, but every insecurity.

Sometimes words aren't enough.

He darts in and lays a quick storm of jabs against the stack of my ribs, _one-two-three._

one _(you're self-serving)_ two _(you don't listen)_ three _(you're unkind)_

I strike him in the jaw and stomach, cultivating blooms like sweet cherries.

left-punch _(you don't let me in)_ right-hook _(you drink too much)_

 _Enough!_ Someone shouts, voice tight like a vine.

I shove him away and we stand there swaying like the tired yews in the old orchard, on the brink of falling.

"You're not worth this," he says and one tree creaks out a crashing plummet.

"Neither are you."

He gives me a look as desolate as a barren garden, then leaves.


	5. Later, in fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Forgive me, heal me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from a quote: _Understanding may come later, in fragments, an insight here and a glimpse there, after forgiving._
> 
> **ETA:** Remixed by [](http://tes-aidan.livejournal.com/profile)[**sdkshelly** : ](http://tes-aidan.livejournal.com/)[The Beginning and the End (and After)](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/48036.html?format=light)

Harry handed the dark glass bottle to Malfoy as soon as he stepped through the Floo, locating his balance with the pedantic grace of someone who had practiced grimly until they got it right.

"Here," he said. "It's... well, wine."

Malfoy spared the label a quick glance before saying, "Apparently so," in a tone which aimed for bland and settled at listless instead. He glanced up at Harry, who was surprised to see dark smudges marring the pale skin under his eyes.

"Malfoy," Harry began, but Malfoy shook his head, turning towards the polished kitchen which dominated one corner of the large, airy space.

"Dinner first, Potter. I can't be expected to maintain a civil conversation with you if--" he stopped when Harry held onto his forearm and tugged, twirling him around into a kiss. The moment their lips met, the apathy which had dominated Malfoy's demeanour melted away; the bottle fell to the carpet with a muffled thump, and Malfoy's hands were all over him, yanking off Harry's robes with impatient jerks. Harry's fingers worked on the many cloth-covered buttons on Draco's fine shirt. Hot breath whispered over skin, and slick spells slithered between them.

They hadn't had sex in over a month, separated by anger and malice. Harry clutched at Draco as they tumbled to the floor, kicking off their trousers and toeing the bottle of wine out of the way. Harry was never good at words; he had been at a complete loss to explain that Ginny had only been escorting him for the fundraiser (and he had also been angry for feeling so obligated, he and Malfoy weren't even in a relationship, _anyway_ ), and so he'd simply ignored Malfoy when the other man, impeccably turned out in beautiful robes, sent Harry burning gazes from his own table.

In the few days after that, they'd walked past each other in the narrow halls of the Ministry, Malfoy's chin tilted at that perfectly dismissive angle. Harry had thrown himself into his work, and so had been floored when a memo slipped tersely under his door and informed him that he was invited to dinner at Malfoy's flat.

No dinner as yet, and still no suitable words Harry could find.

"Sorry," he finally managed at one point, fingers digging into the skin of Malfoy's waist. Malfoy stared down at him as his hips moved over Harry's, riding slow. His gaze was heavy on Harry's face; it felt so...so sad. So very sad.

He touched Harry's cheek and his expression softened, as if the contact soothed some physical ache. Stunned, Harry grasped his fingers, kissed them without thinking... and Malfoy's lips twitched ever so slightly.


	6. The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It's your fault I can't love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death, infidelity. The title is from Imogen Heap's _Hide and Seek_.

Harry stood at the tall, narrow window, fingers resting lightly on the edge of the deep sill. His mouth was a harsh slash in his face as he stared out at the magically-cheerful scenery.

"Why are you always so cold," he said, tone flat. The chill in the air deepened and Harry closed his eyes for a heartbeat, two, then opened them again.

Behind him, Draco was completely silent, Harry's hurt tone flowing past him, the way water would slip past a rock in a stream.

"You've never given me a chance to just...love you," Harry went on, fingers curling into the smooth concrete ledge. "But it's all just fucking with you, isn't it."

The silence in the room gained a mocking, unkind air and Harry refused to turn around. Harry's stomach grumbled and he realized he had not eaten since last night.

"It's you," he continued, tone softening even more. "It's always _you_ pushing me away, even though I would have given you... _everything_."

Draco's silence was stubbornly complete, but Harry wasn't going to concede any defeat by looking in his direction. If Draco didn't want to speak to him, that was fine; Harry would keep talking, even if it hurt almost physically to do so.

Words spilled out of him, berating Draco's overwhelming vanity, which sometimes manifested itself as constant harping on Harry's less-than-neat appearance. He spoke, voice now unreasonably calm, about the grudges Draco _still_ held against him for... for _everything_ which happened in their school-years, even beyond. He would sneer when people deferred to Harry, or trusted Harry's words more.

"I bloody _earned_ that trust, Draco," he snapped now and then bit the inside of his lip, for his voice had picked up a distressing tremor. When he felt able to go on, he did: "You try to take that from me. Why? You tell me."

Draco probably wasn't even listening to him now. He had that habit; whenever Harry got boiling angry, he would go icy, just staring at Harry with that contemptuous grey glance of his.

"We can't work like this," Harry whispered to the glass. "You...it's your fault. I could love you. But everything you do--"

The door was pushed open, an abrupt intrusion into the one-sided conversation. Astoria Greengrass walked in and considered Harry with shadowed eyes. It was only then that Harry could glance at the lean body stretched out on the metal slab behind him. He looked away quickly and his gaze landed on the engagement ring Astoria still wore.

 _I can't love you,_ Harry thought, watching her go towards him, brushing limp blond hair from the porcelain forehead and clutch at limp fingers. _I can't ever love you._

**Author's Note:**

> I think the one I'd really love to expand is 'Descending in Spirals', but the one that meant the most to me was 'The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity'; that's the one that I got bumped off on! :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Beginning and the End (and After)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/744675) by [sdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk)




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